


Last Call

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Fight Scene, Groping, Kissing, Light Bondage, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, reader is a badass, the second part is just straight up porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-09-29 20:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie
Summary: All you wanted was a drink after a long day at work, but a pushy jerk and the God of Mischief have other ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work was conceived while listening to 'Like Lovers Do' by Hey Violet, for anyone interested.

“One more, Jerry. It’s been a day.”

The bartender, with his leather jacket and mouth set into a firm line, nods gruffly and pulls another beer from the tap before plopping it down in front of you. You accept it with an answering nod and take a big gulp of the slightly bitter brew. _That’s the ticket._ It had been a hard day at work and stopped into the bar on the walk home to unwind a bit.

This bar was rundown and dirty, but you were accepted along with the rest of the regulars, and Jerry always knew the stiffness of drink you needed just by the look on your face. Plus, his hard, unwavering stare deterred the random asshole who thought that you were to be messed with simply because you were usually the lone lady in the joint.

Too bad Jerry was in the back when a newcomer came over and plopped down onto the stool next to you. He slides a drink in front of you and settles his hand onto your upper arm with far too much familiarity.

“This has to taste better than that cheap beer you’re drinking.”

Your eyes quickly take him in. Button-up shirt beneath a coordinating sweater, jeans too baggy to be flattering, scuffed up boots, a lazy, smile that was a little _too_ wide and eyes that lingered on your chest, he just gave off all the wrong vibes. He definitely didn’t belong in this bar filled with grizzled, salt of the earth patrons. You had felt him watching you as soon as he and his similarly dressed buddies had walked in, and it was nothing like the lingering stare of the man that had bellied up to the bar soon after you had arrived.

Now his stare was almost welcomed. He stood out, but only because he was a little too nicely dressed to be in the dive bar. His nicely fitted black slacks and tight black shirt beneath a well-worn leather jacket are just a bit too nice to belong in this run-down watering hole. But the darkness in his twinkling eyes and the mischief of his arrogant smirk spoke of seedy underground rendezvous and four-letter words uttered with breathless voices. He held his drink of whiskey like a lover, long fingers curled around the water-stained glass. He didn’t approach you or attempt to chat you up with a terrible pick-up line, so you decided earlier he was mostly benign. If he wanted to enjoy the view of you, exhausted and drained from work, who were you to stop him?

Your eyes flick to the silent stranger, he watches you with faint curiosity, before going back to the overconfident kid eyeing you openly. You can’t be bothered to put on your fake smile to appease him as you shake his hand from your arm roughly. “Nope, I’m good with my beer.”

Jerry returns from the back with a container of glasses, freshly cleaned, and sets them down behind the bar, directly opposite of you. You make eye contact and give him a quick reassuring nod before focusing back on your beer, a clear dismissal of the man at your side.

His hand clamps down on your shoulder and you turn your head to him sharply. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. Look, my friends and I are about to go hit this club downtown. You should come.”

After quickly chugging the last of your beer and shooting a brief wave at Jerry, you stand up and make your way for the exit. Jerry will just add the drinks to your tab and you can pay the next time you popped in. There was always a next time.

“Where are you going?” The words are accompanied by a sweaty hand clamping onto your wrist.

You spin on your heel to stare up at the cocky asshole who thinks that he can just grab any girl he deems fit. You raise your chin and glare daggers at him. “Anywhere you aren’t.”

He uses his hold on your wrist to pull you toward him and latch his hand onto the dip of your waist. That only brought him close enough for you to level a punch into his soft jawline. It stung enough to make you shake out your hand as you pulled away, but it was worth it for the shocked anger twisting on his face.

“Hands off the merchandise, pal.”

“Bitch!”

His answering smack across your face seemed to echo throughout the room, over the low grumbles of burly men chatting, the clacking of billiard balls, and the faint rock sounding out from an ancient jukebox.

You again make eye contact with Jerry, who stopped in the middle of drying off a pint glass with a rag that never looked clean to watch the scene unfold, chest puffed out and eyes wary. You shake your head to let him know that you’re alright before focusing your attention back on the dick who made the huge mistake of thinking he could touch you.

You advance on him slowly, ignoring the dull throb in your knuckles and cheek to tilt your head to the side and plaster on a look of fake contrition. Your voice is syrupy sweet when you croon out, “Oh, I’m sorry…” 

His brow furrows before a boastful smile slips over his face at your surrender. “That’s okay, sweetheart.”

But you only approached him so that he was within striking distance. Your knee lifts and connects with the soft, sensitive flesh in between his legs. He doubles over instantly.

You send your knee into his chest, “I said-” your elbow in between his shoulder blades, “I-” your boot into his hip to roll him over on the sticky bar floor, “wasn’t interested.”

You look up from his pathetic form coughing on the floor to lock eyes with the dark-haired man who had been watching you all night. Even through the hazy cigarette smoke that clouds the air, you can make him out well enough to admire the elegant lines of his jaw as he raises it questioningly. It was the same look that Jerry had given you a moment, but you don’t have time to dignify it with a response.

Arms encircle your neck and shoulders. You grip them with both hands and drop to one knee, using the momentum of your falling weight to pitch forward and pull the attacker over your shoulder and onto his back. A quick punch to his temple and he’s not going to be anybody’s problem for a little bit. Another man, assumedly his friend, rushes at you from the corner of the room. He barreled toward you, face blotchy from booze and fists high, showing his hand long before he reaches you.

You sidestep his lumbering, lurching strides and grunt with the force needed to plant your boot into the mass of his ass. He goes crashing to the floor, bouncing off of a chair in the process.

Finally, three of the regulars, big brawny men, stand up from where they were watching the spectacle and gather up the riff-raff to escort them outside. Now that they’re gone, you’re free to feel the full effect of the fight. You flex the fingers of your dominant hand and walk back to the bar. Jerry is waiting with a stained towel wrapped around ice.

You take it from him gratefully and sink onto your usual hard wooden stool with a sigh. You sat here so much that eventually, the shape of your rear was going to wear itself into the smooth wood. The ice feels heavenly on your bruised knuckles.

Jerry pours out two fingers of whiskey over ice and plops it down in front of you.

“I didn’t order this,” you say, staring longingly at the amber booze calling your name.

He ticks his head toward the other end of the bar. You glance in that direction and see the unknown, well-dressed man who had been watching you the whole night raise his glass with a downward tilt of his head before taking a sip.

Normally you didn’t accept drinks from men, it gave them the wrong idea, but you are just interested enough to break the rules this one time. You take the offered drink and raise it in return, dipping your chin before taking a large sip. It burns down your throat in the most delicious way, promising a hangover in the morning, but you don’t care.

That was invitation enough for him to get up from his seat and prowl towards you. He walks with predatory feline grace, confident and powerful. It practically commands you to watch his long legs eat up the distance until he is beside you at the bar, leaning his back against it so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him and smell his cologne. Masculine leather and spicy musk that cuts through the stale smoke and old beer that permeates the air of the bar.

“You handled yourself well,” he comments lightly. His almost-gravely voice drips with velvet sin. You can’t help but wonder what your name would sound like wrapped in that rich accent and delivered against the skin of your neck

You take another sip of the liquor to blame it on the pulse hammering away at your throat. “Not my first time pissing assholes off because the think my being here is an open invitation. Won’t be the last.”

“Loki.” He gestures to himself and then holds out his hand for you to shake. “And you are?”

You slip your intact hand into his and tell him your name. It spills from his lips like a prayer and he lifts your knuckles to brush against the soft warmth of his lips for a brief moment before releasing you.

His hand, large and thin-fingered, holds the ice pack over your knuckles - it had fallen off when you shook his hand - so that you can take another sip of your whiskey. The intimacy of the act was shocking and sends a hot wave of desire to the pit of your belly. “Whoever would be foolish enough to underestimate you deserves the punishment given to them.”

You nod at Jerry to get two more glasses of whiskey sent your way as you both down the remnants of your drinks. You take the second shot of liquid courage quickly. It’s cheap, burns like hell, and makes you exhale through your teeth, but it gets the job done.

“They don’t normally make the same mistake twice,” you admit with a confident smile. Self-defense classes came in handy when you wanted to wander around at night alone.

He exposes the fair column of his throat to you as he also knocks back his own drink. After he sets the glass back down on the countertop solidly, he skates his fingers across the swelling flesh of your cheek with all the tenderness of a lover.

“That looks to be bruising. Best take care of it.”

You maintain eye contact with Loki and stand up, close enough that your chests brush against each other with each breath. “Put it on my tab, Jerry.”

The wolfish grin tugging at his lips raises the hair on the back of your neck. He removes the ice pack and drops it to the bar before lighting his hand upon the small of your back. You lead the way out of the bar and into the cool fall air.

He steps in front of you, crowding you with his impressive height and broad shoulders, his chin dips down as he takes you in with heat burning in his emerald eyes. “I am not positive that we will have time to make it to my home before your cheek needs further attention.”

You curl your fingers into the open front of his jacket and tug him into you so that you’re pressed together from hips to chest, lifting your chin so that your whispered words feather your lips against his. “What a shame.”

A low growl tears from his throat as he suddenly claims your mouth for his. He tastes of whiskey and desire and salt as his tongue slips between your lips to plunder your mouth. He backs you up until your pressed in between the lean muscle of his body and the rough brick of the wall, his leg sliding between yours to hold you in place so that his hands can rub tantalizingly up and down your sides. They come to rest on your ass, gathering the pliant flesh in his hands and rolling your hips into his as he expertly works his lips against yours.

When you pull away, panting for air, he trails hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down to your neck, sucking on the soft flesh over your hammering pulse. Desire floods between your legs, and you can feel the evidence of his, long and hard, as it rocks against your hip bone. You tangle a hand into his long raven hair and the other slides down the length of his torso. His muscles twitch beneath his clothing at the firm touch. Your hand settles on the length of him over his clothes, rubbing and teasing him in the privacy of your tangled bodies in the shadows.

He wrenches his mouth from your feverish flesh and rests his forehead against yours, panting from desire. The pupils of his eyes are blown and his tongue darts out to wet his parted lips.

“Do not begin anything that you cannot finish,” he warns, low and seductive.

You duck your head to trace a vein in his neck with the tip of your tongue, making him twitch in your hand. “My apartment is just two blocks from here.”

You have to practically jog to keep up with him as he heads off in your pointed direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Loki make it back to your apartment. This chapter is just straight up smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't intended to make a Chapter 2, but it was requested several times that I take the 'implied' out of implied smut and just finish the damn thing.
> 
> This is the result.

It would be much easier to open the damn door to your apartment if Loki wasn’t skimming his hands down your hips and breathing hot puffs of air against the back of your neck.

You finally manage to get the key into the lock and wrench open the door, stumbling inside. Loki closes the door with a finality that sobers you up a bit despite the alcohol and lust buzzing through your system. The only light in the room comes from the crack beneath the door and the streetlight filtering in through your thin curtains. It’s just enough to see his tall, lean figure stalking towards you, eyes glinting with dangerous heat and jaw jutted forward.

He backs you up against the wall by the front door, boxing you in with his forearms on either side of your head and his rigid body pressing along the length of yours. Your breath stutters in your throat at his closeness, the feeling of his arousal accentuated by his hips rolling against you in a steady, smooth motion, and the heady scent of alcohol, spice, and leather filling your flared nostrils.

“I want you, kitten,” his deeply accented voice, graveled and dark, caresses your skin as he stoops his head low enough to draw his lips against the column of your throat in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. “Are you certain that you want this?”

As if you could think with him enveloping your body so thoroughly with his. Your hands spread out across his chest and his muscles ripple in response. Warmth floods your body when a low moan sounds from his throat as your nails drag lightly against the thin fabric teasingly. The arousal coiling in your belly makes your decision for you, and you nod your head shakily in the darkness.

“Use your words,” he commands lowly, pulling his head back from your throat to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.

You dart your tongue out to wet your lips - all the moisture was sucked from your body to pool between your legs - and manage to focus long enough to reply with a throaty, “Fuck me.”

Your words draw a growl, an actual rumbling growl, from him and he slides his hands down your sides to caress the arch of your backside before hooking beneath your thighs. There is no warning before he lifts his hands and wraps your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles over the small of his back and wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself to him as he presses you into the wall with his erection settling perfectly between your thighs.

He claims your mouth with his roughly, dragging his tongue along your lower lip just as he ruts his hips between yours forcefully. You gasp at the shock of pleasure that tears through you and he takes advantage by slipping his tongue into your mouth. It is hot and wet and hard and it leaves your head spinning.

Your heart is racing as you drag your hands down the collar of his jacket to try to push it off of his shoulders, but he can’t let go of you to do as you wish. You break the heated kiss with a snarl and tilt your head back against the wall to pin him down with your dazed stare. “Bedroom. That way. Now.”

He follows directions well, adjusting you so that his hands curl beneath your bottom and hold your hips together as he carries you effortlessly toward the open door you had directed him to. Your arms tighten behind his neck and you suck on the edge of his jaw - he could cut glass with it for how sharp it is - languidly along the way.

A laugh tumbles from your lips as he drops you unceremoniously on your unmade bed. You scramble over to the bedside table to flick on the warm lamp. You want to watch this glorious man utterly ruin you, and the lighting provided from behind your curtains isn’t enough to do him justice.

Especially as he locks eyes with you after you settle into the middle of the bed, propped up on your elbows. His emerald eyes practically burn and his lips pull back into a wolfish smile as he peels his leather jacket off and drops it to the floor at his feet. Your breathing quickens when he catches the hem of his shirt and pulls it up and over his head, revealing a pale torso sculpted of lean muscle just begging to be traced with your fingertips and tongue.

When his hands find the leather belt around his middle, you quickly rise to your knees and go to the edge of the bed, kneeling before him and knocking his hands out of the way. “Let me,” you whisper, smiling seductively up to him.

His eyes widen at your boldness and he settles his hands on your shoulders, giving you permission to carry on. You lean forward to trace your lips over the dip of muscles that points down to where your hands are working his belt from his slacks. The leather falls to join his clothing on the floor and you glance up to wink at him before charting the length of him through the taut fabric with your open mouth, breathing hotly on his hard twitching erection.

Your name flies from his lips like a curse and his hands tangle into your hair, tugging on it and sending goosebumps over your body. You take pity on his rolling hips and unzip his slacks to tug them and his underwear down in one go. He kicks them and his boots off in one go, clearly eager to waste as little time as possible so that you can resume your exploration of his body.

But just because he is urgent and wanting doesn’t mean that you are obligated to rush. The way his head tilts back and his mouth opens with a rumbled moan makes you feel powerful, seductive and desired as you hold the weight of him in your hands. You chase the feeling by stroking him gently, rubbing your thumb over the head of his erection to spread the wetness he creates to ease your movements.

His hands tug your head toward him, and at the last second, you tilt your head to nip his hipbone. His breath falters above you and you smile wickedly in response. 

“Problem?” you ask with false innocence, batting your eyelashes up at him as you sit back on your heels, never stopping your even, maddening strokes over his impressively large cock.

He moves suddenly, bending down to hook his hands beneath your arms to toss you onto your back. Your body is almost crushed beneath his before he nudges his knees in between yours and he supports his weight on his hands on either side of your shoulders. His smile is almost feral as he shifts so that one hand can rest on your heaving stomach. “You are far too overdressed for what I have planned for you.”

From the lust shining in his eyes, to his voice like liquid honey, to his hand as it slips beneath your shirt to splay across your abdomen, you are a mess of sizzling nerves and liquid need. A whimper sounds into the room when his deft fingers slide the cup of your bra down enough so that he can tweak your already pebbled nipple in between them, pulling on them hard enough to toe that delicious line between pleasure and pain.

You are impatient with need and driven by desire. You arch your back off of the bed to rip your shirt off and he uses the moment when your hands are in the air to unclasp your bra and lift it up your arms. He sits back so that both of his hands are free to wrap your bra around your wrists. Your heart hammers in your chest as your hands are restrained, and your wide eyes seek his.

A reassuring smile, only faintly tainted with hunger, settles onto his thin lips. “If you pull your wrists apart you will be able to get loose. I will not do anything you do not wish, I promise you,” he soothed, somehow able to be both endearingly reassuring and devilishly teasing.

Still, you tug experimentally at the makeshift bonds and find that he is correct. Your hands come loose. But now you are curious as to what he had intended for you, so you cross your wrists back over themselves and clutch the bra tightly. A boldness overtakes you when his cock twitches from your false submission to him, and it makes it that much harder to take a deep breath.

His hair falls to tease your feverish flesh as he descends to capture your nipple in between his soft lips. You arch your back into him, desperate for any touch that could ease the coiling need in your lower belly, and he chuckles against you in response. His voice is husky skin in your ears, barely audible over the blood roaring in them.

“Please,” you beg, rolling your hips and arching your back.

He answers your plea with a nip of his teeth on the underside of your breast. “Patience is a virtue, kitten. If you do not like it, I will stop.”

Your hands yearn to hook over his shoulders and pull him to you, but the possibility of further temptation is too much for you to give in. You throw your head back against the bed with an exasperated sigh.

He unbuttons your jeans and works them down your legs, stopping momentarily to pull off your boots and toss them to the floor loudly. You have the offhand thought that the neighbors won’t like that, but all concerns are washed from your mind when his hot mouth closes over your panties just over your heated slit.

“Fuck!” you shout, eyes rolling back in your head and body bowing off of the bed at the unexpected sensation. Your knees curl inwards toward him and he holds them open with caressing hands that travel up your thighs to massage the tender skin where hip meets leg. You manage to lift your head enough to watch as he hooks his fingers underneath the hem of your panties, drawing them off of you, setting your skin alight with his nails just barely scratching at your flesh.

He looks at you like a starving man does an oasis as he lowers himself down onto his stomach on the bed between your legs. The overwhelming desire shining in his eyes doesn’t allow you to feel any shame, spread wantonly on the bed before him, bound and waiting to be used for his pleasure. He drinks in the sight of you, open and waiting, ready to take him into you.

You’re just about to give in to your own needs, beg him to touch you, when he slips his arms beneath your thighs and spreads his hands out over your navel to pin you to the bed. His hot breath blows across your glistening sex as he praises you. “So wet already. How good you are for me.’

_And how good you are to-_

All thought is ripped from you as he drags the flat of his tongue along your dripping folds. A mewl tears unbidden from your throat. You clench your eyes against the pleasure coiling inside of your abdomen and try to rock your hips up into him, but his hands stop you from getting what you seek. His lips suction over your sensitive bundle of nerves and his tongue teases at it quickly, sending you over the edge of your pleasure and into the throes of an orgasm that takes you by surprise.

Your muscles twitch with the aftershocks, and he guides you back to reality with tender kisses laved upon your inner thigh. Abandoning all rules, you untangle your hands from your bra to slide them into his hair, scratching his scalp appreciatively.

Your contented hum turns into a surprised squeak when he abruptly slides two fingers inside of you, and your still-clenching muscles clamp down onto the intruding digits tightly. His hand shifts over your pelvis so that his thumb can thrum your over-sensitive clit, making you squirm to try to escape the overwhelming pleasure.

“Too soon, too soon. I’m so sensitive, I’m going to cum again,” you protest weakly even as your back arches up off of the bed.

“Give into it. Don’t you _dare_ fight your pleasure. Take it from me.” He demands it with a voice rough with desire, breathy and deadly in its sensuality.

His long, thin fingers curl inside of you, finding that delicious spot hidden within that easily brings about your second orgasm. You’re vaguely aware of your cries echoing around the room and your entire body tensing up around him. You clench your eyes so tightly together that you see stars.

You’re only pleasure. White and hot and all-consuming and too much and _not enough_. Never enough.

Panting, you slowly relax and melt into the bedding beneath you, skin glistening with sweat and lips swollen from his bruising kiss. Your heavy-lidded eyes flutter open as the bed shifts beneath you, and your belly tightens at the sight of Loki kneeling between your legs, rolling on a condom over his impressive girth. He’s beautiful, pale skin warmed by the glow of the lamp, lean muscles flexed, long raven hair brushing his shoulders and emerald eyes glittering behind sooty lashes as they blaze a path across your skin. You have never seen a man so breathtaking.

He stretches the length of his body over yours, allowing just enough of his weight to sink you into the mattress while his cock rubs tantalizingly over your folds with each measured roll of his hips. The kiss he lays on you is thorough, punctuated by his arms working behind your back so his hands can hook around your shoulders.

No words are exchanged, he simply raises a dark brow at you in one final question, and you answer by thrusting your hips upwards into him, positioning him at your entrance. His forehead falls to rest against the hollow of your neck as he buries himself in one smooth motion inside of you.

He’s _big_. Much bigger than you had realized, and your breath comes out in stuttered gasps as you stretch around him. Your hands grasp at his back for purchase against the almost uncomfortable tightness, and when you are finally used to him, you skate your hands down his backside to cup his pert backside. You roll him into you, and he follows your lead by beginning to slowly rock within you.

As your moans increase, so does the speed and force of his thrusts. His answering groans rumble from his chest and out against your shoulder, where he is alternating between biting the delicate skin there and laving the reddened skin with his tongue.

“Loki,” you whine, dragging your nails up his backside to scramble for purchase in the long flexing muscles of his back.

“Say my name.” He pushes himself up on his hands, and the new angle makes the very tip of him drag across your inner spot, sending waves of white-hot pleasure flowing through your limbs, clouding your mind and dropping your jaw.

“Loki!” You hook your feet around his calves and use the leverage to meet his hips with yours. The sound of your flesh meeting echoes around the room, a hedonistic soundtrack to your carnal passions.

“That’s it,” he grinds out through clenched teeth, his forehead creasing as he resists his oncoming orgasm. “Once more, kitten. Come around my cock.”

Your inner walls flutter around him with the beginnings of your climax, and you force your eyes open to lock onto his. “Loki!”

Your name is both a curse and a prayer on his lips as his hips slam against yours once, twice, three times. The force of it triggers your final orgasm, and you can only hold onto him as you shudder in his arms. He lowers you both to the bed once his stuttering thrusts have ceased, rolling onto his back with you draped across his chest, sated and spent.

“How is your cheek now?” he asks quietly, stroking your sweaty hair from off your back and settling his large hand on the dip of your spine.

You smile dreamily into his chest and softly trace meaningless shapes on his chest over his racing heartbeat with your fingertips. You had forgotten all about your pretense for coming to your apartment in the first place, and now, resting against his chest, it barely smarts in the face of your contented stupor. “Never better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope those that requested this are happy with it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
